


Sweaters

by xocberry



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Coffee, EXO - Freeform, Fluff and Smut, IM SHOOK, M/M, Smut, Sweaters, Top Kim Minseok | Xiumin, What Did I Just Write, XiuChen - Freeform, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 19:03:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11675193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xocberry/pseuds/xocberry
Summary: Jongdae is fed up. Who the fuck only owns fuzzy sweaters?





	Sweaters

  _This is the seventh fucking time he’s come here._

 

_And each time he’s wearing a different fucking sweater._

 

_I wanna fucking rip that sweater off._

 

_I wonder what he looks like beneath it._

 

_Why’s he so fucking cute?_

 

Jongdae eyed the sweater sporting boy across the cafe. He had just gotten his order when his eye caught something soft and seemingly delicate. 

 

The boy had slightly damp hair that parted messily in the center, while a white turtleneck peaked out from beneath a black, fuzzy sweater, resting on his chin, directly below his lip. 

 

He swallowed coarsely. It drove Jongdae insane.

 

Insanity would be his only explanation for why he followed the boy from the cafe, down the street, to the outside of an apartment building.

 

He wasn’t a stalker. He was just curious.

 

Wearing a button-down ironed shirt, Jongdae didn’t look at all the part he was playing: a creep. 

 

The sweater boy turned around wearily, face full of curiosity as he noticed the other following him. 

 

“Are you heading this way, too, or…” he trailed off, knowing full well that he was being pursued. He would have been scared. Or worried, at the least. 

 

But there was something about the one in front of him that eased his concern. 

 

“Oh! Espresso! You’re the one who always orders the extra espresso shots. Jongdae, right?”

 

He took a step closer. 

 

_He even knows my name?_

 

_He pays attention to when the barista calls out his order?_

 

Jongdae took a step back, remaining an equal distance from the other.

 

“I’m Minseok,” he stated as he offered his hand. 

 

The handshake lingered for longer than it should have. Jongdae looked up, meeting the other’s gaze, a hint of mischief ghosted on Minseok’s face. Faint but noticeable.

 

In a sudden movement, Minseok pulled the boy forward, closing the distance between the two.

 

“So Jongdae, tell me. Why were you following me back to my place?”

 

He knew it. Jongdae knew that fluffy sweater wasn’t an extension of the cute boy’s personality. 

 

“I want more,” he whispered, hardly audible.

 

And he did. He craved the one before him. All he wanted in that moment was to unveil the mask, the wall, the facade the other put up to hide himself.

 

_Is he really cute and soft like his exterior?_

 

_Then what is that look for?_

 

Minseok’s mouth stretched into a lopsided smirk, eyes growing sharp and darkening with lust.

 

Jongdae froze, unable to move. How he wanted to take over that grin that mocked him. But he restrained himself. He held himself back.

 

_I followed him here, I can’t attack him outside of his place._

 

As if the other could read his thoughts, mouths collided. Minseok brought an arm to the other’s back in support, a pressure that molded the two together. 

 

On the street.

 

Outside of the older’s apartment.

 

Tongues tasting, hands exploring, Minseok somehow maneuvered the two into the building and up the elevator, journeying to the outside of his apartment door.

 

He shoved Jongdae up against the door, restraining his arms above him by the wrists, knee between the younger’s thighs.

 

Pinned.

 

He nudged his knee up a bit and ran his tongue up the boy’s neck. “You taste like a fucking espresso,” he hummed against the neck, earring a light moan in response.

 

“That’s all? I expected more from you,” Minseok growled, removing his knee and turning around. He grinded against the other’s crotch as he located his house key before facing back and opening the door behind Jongdae.

 

Once they were inside, Jongdae took control.

 

He first slammed Minseok against the wall before slamming his lips against the other’s. “You. Have. No. Fucking. Idea. How much. I’ve wanted you. The past few months,” he uttered into the other’s mouth. “You and your fucking sweaters.”

 

He directed Minseok’s mouth back to his neck as he arched his back into the older, who found amusement in the younger’s sudden domination.

 

In his home.

 

Deciding it was time to teach the guest a lesson, Minseok slipped out from between the boy and the wall and pulled Jongdae into another room.

 

By the belt loop of his pants.

 

Jongdae was surprised by the lack of furniture in the house. There was no bed.

 

Just a large couch.

 

Minseok sat the boy down on the couch and straddled him, lips fiercely attacking as his arms wrapped around the other’s neck and back. 

 

The younger took fistfuls of the sweater, cursing into Minseok’s mouth, “You’re fucking hot but so cute, you’re making me confused. What the hell are you?”

 

Minseok rolled his hips on the younger’s lap, evoking deep, harmonious groans, as he undid the buttons of the shirt in front of him. 

 

“You did this- nn- on purpose, didn’t you?” Minseok grumbled as he reached the last button.

 

“D-did what?” Jongdae asked innocently.

 

“Wore things that come off easily,” he growled as he traced his hands up the younger’s bare chest. “You work out?”

 

He got up and directed the other into another position on the couch. Minseok placed himself above the younger as his mouth toured the well built frame below him. 

 

Collar, chest, abs, navel.

 

His tongue ventured and tasted. “Espresso,” he mumbled appreciatively.

 

Jongdae’s stomach only flexed and twitched in response to the older as his tongue worked in crevices of muscles. 

 

Back arching once more, his body craved Minseok. Finding an opportunity, he sprung up and toppled the sweater sporting boy, removing his own constricting pants.

 

He left the sweater on.

 

He went for Minseok’s mouth first, tasting the familiar sweetened coffee that fragranced from the boy each time he say him in the cafe. 

 

His tongue explored the cavern behind lips that sucked on his in a collision of sweet saliva, sweat, and skin. He abandoned the savory mouth and moved up and sideways, leaving brisk kisses on Minseok’s cheek and ear.

 

“Do you own anything else besides these damn sweaters?” he whispered hungrily before dipping his head down to the side of the older’s nape. 

 

Smiling into the soft and warm area, he whispered, “Holy shit. This is good.”

 

But other areas were calling for his attention. He moved on.

 

Slowly and unwillingly, he peeled off the sweater and turtleneck from Minseok, who grinned, saying, “I feel like you’re more turned on by the sweater than by me.” A playful expression crossed his face. “Let me change that for you.”

 

He threw the sweater off and conquered the other’s mouth once more. His hand went low and caressed the younger’s inner thigh, inciting a jerk from the other’s hips.

 

Content swirling about, his fingers met with Jongdae’s stiff member. Thumb grazing the sensitive tip, awakening a longing deep within the younger. 

 

Minseok began stroking, gradually picking up pace. As did the other’s thrusts into the older’s generous hand. 

 

He chuckled. “Not yet,” he hummed as he lowered his head to the leaking shaft, taking it in bit by bit. 

 

Jongdae grew hyperaware of every touch, every contact, every nudge. Tongue resting below, lips encircling. Tight, warm, and wet.

 

He closed his eyes and moaned. 

 

Vehemently and artlessly. 

 

Minseok didn’t even have to do much to bring the younger to the edge. He bobbed his head, feeling the younger in the back of his throat. 

 

His hands assured the other to move with him, deepening and enhancing the contact. One around the base, extending the warmth from his mouth, the other on hips, communicating with the boy to trust.

 

And thrust, he did.

 

To and over the edge he went, filling the older’s mouth with his seed as he rode out the rest of his arousal.

 

“Fuck…Fuck sweaters,” he mumbled. 

**Author's Note:**

> What did I just...


End file.
